


The Inappropriate Use Of Hand Cream

by a_secret_scribbler



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Fantasy Sex, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, No. Leave the gloves on please, hand cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_secret_scribbler/pseuds/a_secret_scribbler
Summary: Hux has pretty hands. He likes to keep them that way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear. I accidentally Kyluxed...

_“Filthy slut,”_ the voice in his head whispers, _“My nasty little boy.”_

In a rare introspective moment Armitage Hux observes that he has his mother’s hands, though in shape alone. Hers were scarred and callused from years of working in the kitchens, but he imagines that before hard work and bad weather left their mark, they would have been as soft and pale as his own. The skin stretches almost translucent over the backs of his hands, veins clearly visible. He keeps his nails short, well-manicured, and scrupulously clean. Hux is a man untouched by vanity, not one to stand preening in front of a mirror, his hands are his one true folly. Every six months he pays an embarrassingly high import duty to take delivery of a small box containing a dozen tubes of hemp hand cream from the Mind and Body Shop. It smells masculine enough so that he doesn't feel embarrassed by the scent, he learned the hard way that on a ship full of men you didn’t want to be the one smelling of roses. His skin, so pale, so sensitive, the air conditioning on-board so harsh, this decadence keeps his hands from cracking and bleeding. He also secretly enjoys the few minutes it takes him to rub the thick oily balm over the backs of his hands, in between his fingers, into the meat of his palms, it feels sensuously decadent.

There are other benefits too of course, his hands, so smooth now, that when he removes his uniform, closes his eyes, and brushes his fingers gently over his nipples, or when he traces the vein that runs the length of his cock, he can imagine a different hand. A larger hand. A hand clad in black buckskin leather, butter soft.

At night, alone, he utilises the same hand cream as lubricant as he strokes himself to full hardness. Using his less dominant hand he slides a finger between his buttocks and caresses the puckered skin around his anus. He teases himself until he feels the ring of muscle flutter and open just enough to slip one fingertip inside. It's usually enough. Though tonight, maybe not. Earlier, standing with Kylo Ren in front of Snoke, accepting full responsibility for the right royal fuck up with the droid, he had felt humiliated, small, insignificant. It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed to summon enough strength not to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness. Ren would have noticed of course, although he gave no outward sign. Nevertheless there was a definite shift in the atmosphere, a thickening in his own shorts, a crackle of electricity in the air, and now that prickly feeling still hangs over him, he needs more.

Switching position he kneels and tucks his pillow under his hips, reaching round he pushes two fingers inside himself, he is rougher than usual and the sting causes a sharp intake of breath. With his eyes screwed closed he allows his mind to stray down uncharted paths. He imagines his door opening and Kylo standing there, mask removed, watching him, he hears the door lock snick and feels the mattress dip. A gloved hand removes his fingers and for one short moment he is left open and exposed but then he feels a breath exhaled and the lightest of touches against his hole. Lips press and a wet tongue flicks against the rim, flicking becomes probing, and then thrusting and he moans out loud, face pressed into mattress. Kylo’s hands force his buttocks even wider apart, he can feel the other man’s saliva dripping down to his balls as he gorges on his hole, it feels filthy and wrong and yet every cell in his body is singing. Kylo pulls back a little, and then flattening his tongue he bathes him from balls to tailbone, spreading him further, sucking on the loose skin of his balls, nibbling with half shielded teeth.

In reality he sets a faster rhythm, echoing the fantasy. Fantasy Kylo moves again to position himself behind Hux, gripping his hips to steady him, leaving fingertip shaped bruises that he’ll enjoy for days. He feels the blunt head of the other man’s cock nudging his hole, lining up and pushing slowly inside. It feels too much, too big, he panics a little that he won’t take it all, willing himself to relax as he is breached, and then he is full, and there is damp breath against his shoulder blades, and he feels, and he feels.

He is thrusting now, his fingers plundering his own hole, his cock, iron hard and leaking, rutting into the pillow beneath him. The man in his head pins him down, as he fucks into him, he is surrounded by the scent of fresh sweat, leather, and the tang of sex. One gloved hand reaches around and he feels the knuckles drag along the underside of his shaft, a tantalising inch by inch crawl towards the head of his prick, Hux lets out a low growl of frustration and the fingers form a fist at last, gripping him just the right side of too tight and he sobs in gratitude.

Suddenly the pillow isn’t enough, he kneels up, sitting back on his heels, removing his fingers and fumbling around on his bedside table for the tube, he squeezes out a generous stripe of the scented lotion and slicks himself from balls to tip, forms the same fist and rams two fingers back inside the tight ring of muscle. Kylo pulls him backwards, manhandling him, seating him firmly on his prick, brisk, shallow thrusts echo his own fingers and the gloved hand pulls him closer and closer to completion.

_“Do it,”_ a deep voice in his ear commands, causing his breath to hitch and his hand to speed up. Opening his eyes he watches as the drops of milky liquid gather and then slide over the shiny head of his cock, dripping slowly onto his knuckles, making slicking noises as he works himself. His breath stutters, it won't take much more, a deeper thrust of his fingers, knuckles pressing hard behind his balls, and he tips over the edge, back arching, come spurting over his belly and chest, a sharp gasp escaping his throat. _“Filthy slut,”_ the voice in his head whispers, _“My nasty little boy.”_

A short while later, after his breathing has slowed, Hux lies back and trails his fingers through the mess on his belly. He brings his hands up and performs the same soothing actions, rubbing it over the backs of his hands, in between the webs of his fingers, into his palms, it feels strangely comforting.

In the darkness he shakes his head and laughs.

He wants him.

He imagines him.

He doesn't quite know how to go about getting him...

...yet.

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Atlin Merrick and Black Morgan. I didn't "Step BACK!" far enough to avoid fandom infection. TUT!


End file.
